


A Healing Kind of Grief

by trishalynn



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: M/M, Old Flames, Older Men Can Have Relationships Too, Romance, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 03:23:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17952698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trishalynn/pseuds/trishalynn
Summary: Bruce Wayne takes a mysterious message for his butler, Alfred.





	A Healing Kind of Grief

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson and Gotham are copyrighted to DC and I'm only borrowing them for the purposes of this story. Gerard is my creation; please do not use him without contacting me first. Archival requests must be sent to me first. Do not MST or Pop-Up without asking. This is dedicated to KayJay, who put this idea into my head and for creating a place where Mooks can live happily ever after. Though this is a slash story, there is no sex in it, so the only thing that'll prevent you from reading it would be your own personal preferences towards slash.
> 
> **ETA in 2019:** This was originally written back in the "good old days" when you had to go to CFAN to find a list of all the comics fanfic archives that were existence and some of us fanfic authors hung out in the #comicbooks channel on IRC. Times were different back then...

Bruce Wayne looked around at the sound of the phone ringing. He was in his study, looking over the financial reports that Lucius was kind enough to send to him. No one knew for sure whether or not the multi-millionaire read them, but Lucius sent them anyway. He looked at his phone with its myriad of buttons. One of them was flashing, so he took that as a sign that he should press it before picking up the receiver. "Wayne Manor." 

//Oh, hello. I was wondering if Mr. Pennyworth is residing at this number?// The male voice on the other end was cultured, with a faint accent that made Bruce think about eating crepes on the French Riviera. 

"I'm sorry, but Mr. Pennyworth is not available right now. Can I take a message?" Bruce searched in his desk for a pen and a piece of paper. 

//Do tell Mr. Pennyworth that a friend of his from the theater called. His call time is at 7:30 tonight, and he is to bring the appropriate accessories.// 

Bruce raised his eyebrows, but carefully wrote the message down, underlining the parts about the theater and the accessories. "Is there a name I can leave with this message, sir?" 

//Mr. Pennyworth knows who it is.// The phone clicked off rather definitely, and the receiver hummed with the sound of the dial tone. Bruce looked at the message and its contents. He didn't know that Alfred was involved in community theater. How would he have found the time with all the duties that were involved in taking care of the Wayne household and its master? Not that he didn't want his good friend and butler to have free time. But taking care of the house of the world's greatest detective was a full time job in itself. 

Bruce could have traced the call, even with the brief amount of time the caller was on the line. He was also very adept at cracking secret codes and messages. However, he decided to take the direct approach and talk to his butler instead. 

He found Alfred in the gardens, taking his ritualistic tea and scones among the roses. He was reading the London Times and listening to a portable radio playing a jaunty little string quartet piece by Mozart. If it weren't for the fact that Bruce could see the dingy jutting Gotham City skyline in the background, he would have sworn that he was in the English countryside. Bruce cleared his throat. 

"Yes, Master Bruce? What is it?" 

"A man called while you were taking your tea." Bruce handed over the message, then stepped back to observe his butler's reaction. 

Alfred nodded while reading the message, then placed it carefully in the inside pocket of his coat. He picked up his paper again and recommenced his reading. 

Bruce cleared his throat again. "Aren't you going to say anything?" 

Alfred put the paper down. "About what, sir?" 

"About the message." Bruce waited about two seconds. "I didn't know you were involved in community theater." 

"I'm not." Alfred twisted his wrist watch slightly, then rose from his chair. "As it is almost five o'clock, I will need only fifteen minutes to clear out my tea tray before resuming work. Will you be needing my assistance tonight?" 

Bruce shook his head. "I'm taking Dick out again. The boy still needs to work on his surveillance techniques." 

"Very good, sir." Bruce stepped aside to let the older man pass, before entering the house himself. He watched thoughtfully as Alfred crossed into the foyer, then shook himself from his ruminations. Whatever his butler was up to, Bruce knew that he shouldn't intrude. He told this to himself several times as he suited up for his night's work. 

^_^ 

At 7:10, Alfred Pennyworth opened the door to the car and stepped out in front of the old abandoned movie theater on the corner of K and Leigh Street. A faded marquee proclaimed that "The African Queen" was back for a limited engagement. Katherine Hepburn's eyes drooped sadly from a water-stained poster. Alfred checked all of the approaches to the building, then squared his shoulders and opened the front door. 

Cobwebs festooned the lobby, and as Alfred turned his flashlight on, a rat scurried away, chittering a rebuke at him. He played his light over all of the decaying surfaces until he spied a door marked "Employees Only". Opening it, he found the stairs leading to the projection room. Each step he took made him shudder, as it almost felt like the whole building was going to come down around his ears. If he was going to be ambushed, the stairs would be the perfect place to do so. 

He let out a sigh of relief as he reached the top stair, and opened the door. A cloud of dust greeted him and he stepped back in surprise. Strong arms encircled around him, pulling him to one side and turning him around. 

Alfred broke free from the embrace and dropped into a defensive position. A low throaty laugh came from the shadows. "After all this time, the best I get is a karate stance? I'd have figured you'd use the jujitsu." 

Alfred straightened up when he heard that French-tinged voice. "A gentleman never injures his guests." He held out his hands, and a man with dark skin and light eyes stepped forward. "Gerard." 

"Alfred." Gerard nodded at Alfred, before giving him a hearty hug. "It's been forever since I've seen you. Why have you never called?" 

"I didn't have your number," he replied. "It was classified." 

"Oh dear," he said, his hand covering a smile. "I'd forgotten about that." Gerard stepped back and looked him up and down. "You're looking much better. Retirement has agreed with you." 

"It is not without its own excitement," Alfred said with a smile. "How long are you going to be in town?" 

"Only a day or two. Stop over between duties." Gerard gave him a smile that held both notes of angelicness and deviltry. "Care to take an old friend for a night on the town? Show me what Gotham has to offer?" 

Alfred smiled back, a twinkle in his eye. "What would Angela say?" 

"Nothing. She's dead." 

His eyes widened, and Alfred reached out to grasp Gerard's hands. "How long?" 

"A month or two. I just found out a week ago." His eyes grew sad. "You know it would have been our thirty-fifth anniversary today..." 

"I remember." Alfred looked into his friend's eyes and squeezed his hands. "You met on a job--" 

"She was your partner." 

"We thought you were the enemy." 

"I thought the same." 

"The Russians found all three of us." 

"We barely escaped with our lives." 

"She fell in love with you at first sight." 

"She was your best friend." 

They stood like that, at arm's length, just looking at each other and remembering. Alfred's heart was heavy. He should have known that Gerard would not have come all the way from France for a friendly visit. He was never like that. He was much more serious about business than Angela was. It was the reason why he was still in the game even after other men of his acquaintance had long since quit. Alfred felt him start to shake. 

"It's all my fault." Alfred watched as Gerard's eyes started to fill with tears. "She'd had an 'incident' about six months back. A slight health scare. I didn't' think anything was wrong. She said she was fine. And there was this one job, one that was perfect for our talents." He shook his head. "I never should have taken it." 

"No... no, Gerard." Alfred gathered him into his arms at this point, rocking him gently. "Angela knew the dangers as well as you did, even more so. It was why you made the perfect team." Alfred held him as he cried and after he'd purged his grief, he stepped back, and watched with satisfaction as Gerard gathered himself and slipped his "game face" back on. 

"So, my friend," he started, a teasing smile on his face. "Where can a gentleman get a decent bite to eat around here?" 

"Depends on the gentleman," Alfred quipped. "But seeing as it's an old friend, I'll not take you to McBurgers." Clapping him on the back, he escorted Gerard out of the theater. 

^_- 

They found themselves at a little Mom-n-Pop restaurant on the outskirts of the city. It was a place that neither of the men would have caught themselves dead in. Only truck drivers and down-on-their luck moms frequented the establishment. It was perfect. 

Gerard looked down at his plate in astonishment. "And this is what they call a hearty meal in America? I expect the cow this steak came from to waltz in from the kitchen any minute and demand its rump back." 

Alfred cut heartily into his greasy fried chicken. "It's better than the food we had in Akbar." He set his knife down and speared a piece of chicken with the fork, dunking it in the gravy before taking a bite. He shuddered. "Absolutely horrid." 

"I didn't see you complaining too much," Gerard rebutted, reaching for the salt and pepper. "I thought Angela was going to choke when she saw you eat that... that..." 

"Inedible slime that passed for food?" Alfred regarded the next piece of meat on his fork with intense scrutiny, then dunked it into the blob of ketchup on his plate. "I'll be honest and tell you that it passed, rather quickly, later on that night." 

Gerard started to laugh, his melodic tones drifting high above them, at odds with their surroundings. "My, Alfred. You're getting rather un-stodgy in your old age." 

Alfred smiled. "It is all the influence of young Master Dick." He folded his hands in front of him. "It's a blessing to have him under my care." 

Gerard leaned forward. "You love the boy." 

"Of course I do. Just as I love working for Master Bruce." Gerard gave him a knowing look, and Alfred sighed. "I could never fool you for very long." 

"To put it in today's vernacular, 'Never bullshit a bullshitter.'" Gerard leaned back into the plastic cushion and sighed. "When did we get so old?" 

Alfred shrugged, pushing the peas around on his plate. "I miss it sometimes. When Master Bruce and Master Dick are away at nights, I sometimes think about my 'glory days' in London." 

"I've been thinking about that, too." Gerard's eyes twinkled. "Remember the night we spent hiding in that bolthole near the Thames?" 

Alfred guffawed. "No TV, no communication with our superiors, no food--" 

"Unless you count that drek we had to find in the dumpster." 

"Angela asleep, wrapped up in our overcoats due to the chill from our impromptu swim in the river..." 

"I do wish we hadn't have been gentlemen then," Gerard sighed. "It was very cold that night." 

Alfred's eyes met Gerard's. "We found other ways to stay warm," he said quietly. 

Gerard regarded the other man carefully. "Do you truly miss... everything?" 

Alfred was careful not to touch the other man, but looked into his eyes intently. "Yes." 

A moment passed, then another. Finally Gerard spoke. "As I said, I won't be in town for very long. Arrangements have to be made." His voice broke. "I have to tell our kids." He paused, a glimmer of a tear in his eye. "Would you mind taking me back to my hotel room?" 

"Not at all," Alfred said, signaling for the check. He paid, leaving a generous tip for the tired waitress that served them, and the two friends made their way out of the diner, to the hotel where Gerard was staying. 

*_* 

Alfred opened the door to the suite, continuing to listen to Gerard as he spoke. "...about this that hurts the most is that I didn't know. Not for months. They wouldn't tell me what happened to her. From my end, it went perfectly. I did my part, got out. She was supposed to stay longer to maintain the cover." He sniffled, wiping his hand across his eyes. "It's all my fault." 

"No, no Gerard," Alfred said, taking the other man by the shoulder and turning him around to face him. Gerard broke down in tears again, ugly sobs that made Alfred's heart rend. He hugged the other man to him and held him until he stopped crying, making soothing noises of comfort and stroking his back. 

When Gerard stopped, Alfred tipped up his chin and looked into his dark brown eyes. Gently and softly, he kissed the other man on the forehead. He felt Gerard shiver, and reach around to embrace him. Alfred stroked the back of Gerard's head, cradling it in his palm as he leaned down to kiss him on the lips. 

Gerard responded in kind, his arms twining up to wrap around Alfred's neck, holding on as if his life depended on it. The kiss deepened, and Alfred could feel his friend's need rising. Gerard pulled away, looking into Alfred's eyes. "What are you--" 

"Shhhh," Alfred said, putting a finger to Gerard's lips. Gerard gave out a small cry, and kissed at Alfred's finger, licking at the first knuckle. He kissed all over Alfred's palm, lingering on the skin at his wrist, finally cradling Alfred's warm hand against his cool cheek. 

"I'm lost without her," Gerard sighed, his voice worn with pain and grief. 

"Balderdash." 

"What?" 

Alfred adjusted his position, sitting down on the bed, gesturing for Gerard to sit next to him. "Balderdash, poppycock, and all those other things people are fond to attribute to the British. You are lost at the moment, but you will find yourself again. It just takes time." 

Gerard nodded, then said with a twinkle in his eye. "No compassionate loving from you right now, then?" 

Alfred laughed. "At the moment, no. I couldn't take advantage of you like that." 

Gerard shoved him in the shoulder. "You've never been able to take advantage of me." 

"Bangkok?" 

Gerard thought for a moment. "Point taken." He leaned over and kissed Alfred on the lips again, a lingering, shaky kiss. "Would you still spend the night with me?" 

"Absolutely." 

^_^ 

"Did you have a good evening, gentlemen?" Alfred asked, a breakfast tray in his hands. He set down Dick's plate first, then Bruce's. 

Dick rubbed the back of his head. "Darn stone gargoyles." 

Bruce grinned. "What Dick's trying to say is that in his exuberance in tailing a suspect, he forgot the number of overhangings on the Gotham Trust Building. Went head first into the gargoyle on the northwest corner." Alfred winced in sympathy. Bruce leaned forward. "And you?" 

"A quiet evening, sir. Thinking about old friends and old relationships." 

Bruce sat back, looking into his friend's face. He started to relax, his mind fully at ease. Alfred would never purposely hide anything from him. He pierced the eggs so that the yolk ran out over the hash browns. 

"Good."


End file.
